


When Getting Away is Harder Than Staying Home

by sazzykins



Category: Lost Souls - Poppy Z. Brite
Genre: Ghost isn't overly thrilled, I just spend the rest of the fic cruelly interrupting them, I keep cockblocking these poor boys, M/M, OCs for shuffling the plot along, Steve and Ghost have adventures, Steve is not happy about this, cryptid spotting, stoast do get some action, watch as I mess around with cryptid legends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 20:40:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10647666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sazzykins/pseuds/sazzykins
Summary: Steve and Ghost head to Mexico to try and escape the memories of New Orleans for a little longer but end up in yet more trouble.





	When Getting Away is Harder Than Staying Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kakera](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kakera/gifts).



> The prompt "Things you said too quietly" was given by my friend for this pairing.
> 
> Then the fic came to life when we ended up sat in a Mexican themed night where the DJ thought it was acceptable to play 42 versions of the tequila Song back to back. We refer to it now as Tequila Song Hell.
> 
> I have added translations of the Spanish in this (as aided by google translate) if you hover your cursor over the phrase. I've only done it on the first one.

It was an uncomfortably warm night, the kind where sleep is impossible. Push the blanket aside and you somehow freeze half-to-death in the middle of summer but pull it back over and all of a sudden you’re lying in Satan’s asscrack. Driving, however, was an entirely different matter. With the windows rolled down, the T-Bird kept both occupants in thoughts and dreams of a very pleasant, if windswept, spring evening. Luckily for both men, looks had never been the top of their concern and manically wind-tousled hair didn’t give them a second thought.

Steve frowned at the road, pushing a tuft of wiry black hair from his face as he squinted at an approaching sign. The next turn off was where they had been aiming. He glanced at Ghost, fast asleep in the passenger seat, head partially hanging out of the window, wind flicking white blond hair across his face. For a brief moment he thought of waking the other man up, of listening to him talk his way through whatever dreams were passing through his head.

He shook his head. Ghost had often seemed troubled since New Orleans. Steve had initially thought it was the killing of Zillah – an act Steve had never thought Ghost capable of. Though he was sure Zillah was the main cause, something else seemed to be weighing on him. However, in typical Ghost fashion he kept it to himself, no doubt trying not to worry Steve. Of course this had the opposite effect; Ghost cared and took too much on which meant he shouldered a lot of pain for a lot of people – not least of all Steve himself.

Better to leave Ghost in the land of his dreams for now.

This road trip had been an impulse decision. After New Orleans, the familiar town and comfortable routine had helped soothe them somewhat but an edge remained – memories of what had happened in their home and with Ann were still too fresh. Instead Steve had decided one morning that they would go to Mexico, for no reason other than that they could. He had reached over and woken Ghost up – Steve had not returned to his own bed – and told him they were going to Mexico that day. Terry could handle the shop for another few weeks, there was always some teenager willing to pick up a few hours work after all, and he and Ghost could escape for a bit longer. Ghost had woken up, eyes blurry from sleep, stared at Steve in silence for several long moments, making the dark-haired man wonder if he had actually woken up, before nodding.

“Okay.”

They had flung some clothing into bags, made sure there was a large enough supply of weed and beer and Steve picked up his guitar. There was always a chance they could do a small gig if they needed some cash and by dinnertime they were on their way.

Steve pulled over into a lay-by - his thoughts swirling alarmingly after hours of staring at the road in silence. They were in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by darkness on all sides, the only light coming from the night sky. He sat staring ahead, chest tight and muscles tense hands fixed to the steering wheel, waiting for something to emerge from the darkness. He wasn’t sure what - maybe Nothing and those other two vampires chilling on the side of the road, maybe Ann, stomach and legs covered in blood…

 He woke Ghost up then and pulled him into the back seat, kissing him with feverish desperation. Hands wandering through hair and over skin, grasping and squeezing, eliciting moans from the two men. After the first time, they had both discovered how potent a drug being together was, rivalling alcohol and weed in its ability to take them out of their minds when it became too much. They slept after that, Ghost’s lighter body laying protectively almost on top of Steve’s, a blanket half pulled over them until the sun rose the next morning. After a visit to the first diner they stumbled across – Ghost took his turn driving, content to sail down the roads in the light of day.

The day passed quickly; Ghost sang his way through the journey, Steve listening, sometimes joining in. He didn’t have his friend’s vocal talents, but Ghost seemed to enjoy it when he sang along. He opened a can as the other man sang his way down the highway, straw hat shielding his face from the sun. Steve watched him in silence, long fingers tapping out a silent beat on the steering wheel, still wearing his khaki green jacket despite the heat. Long white blond hair pooled in the hood, a few strands escaping and swishing round his face in the wind causing focused blue eyes to flicker closed in response, the colour seeming paler than normal in the strong light. A lively strand of hair curled round his friend’s face and attached itself to his mouth – without missing a beat Steve reached over and brushed it away. Those blue eyes turned from the road and met his before turning away, the brief contact being replaced with a hand, fingers entwining with Steve’s guitar callused fingers.

They remained like that for the rest of the drive, eventually pulling over in the evening to get more food. Steve took over driving, letting Ghost drift back to sleep until they finally reached their destination.  Monterrey had been the randomly picked destination – less of a drive than Mexico City but still big enough to lose themselves in for a while.

Steve could see civilisation beginning to accumulate at the sides of the road after the turnoff – gas stations, small shops and houses now blocking the black expanse of the country. Steve watched out for any sign of a motel, slowing the T-bird as they drove along the highway. Sleeping in the T-bird was fine and all but a bed was definitely more comfortable and he was not entirely sure of the last time either he or Ghost had showered - Ghost who in all his unending empathy often followed Steve into his bouts of less than publically acceptable personal hygiene. He figured a shower would be the polite thing to do before heading out into the city the next day.

A large beige wall with terracotta arches came into view, a large orange sign stood above it announcing it as a motel. Steve braked hard and swerved into the parking lot, glad that there were no cars behind him. Ghosts head rolled with the sudden direction change and then lifted up as he blinked at the world around him, the squeak of brakes waking him from sleep.

“Stay here, I’m gonna see if they have a room.”

Steve hopped out of the T-bird and vanished inside the building. Ghost peered out of the passenger window, looking out into the darkness of the parking lot and beyond. They were on the edges of the city and the stars were not particularly visible here, but he could sense the presence of mountains nearby.  The looming watchfulness of the giant masses of rock and forest making him feel oddly at home. He briefly wondered if he could convince Steve to head out to them tomorrow, there would probably be a multitude of walking trails they could follow and then wander off. Ghost closed his eyes and listened – he couldn’t hear Ann for the first time since New Orleans – maybe she couldn’t come this far south. A wave of relief washed over him, followed by guilt over the relief. He understood why she was so angry after all…

His thoughts drifted from Ann to his dream. Already the images were starting to fade, but he remembered giant crows with red eyes, could still almost hear them calling out to him until the swerve of the T-bird had woken him up. A thought hovered on the edge of his consciousness, just out of reach, taunting him with some bit of knowledge he had overlooked. The sound of a door slamming brought him back out of his thoughts – he put them aside, anything important would come back to him later.

“You okay, Ghost?” Steve was back, opening the driver’s side door and peering at his friend.

“Fine, just getting a feel for the area…” he replied. Steve always had fun with those kinds of answers.

“If your vampire radar picks something up, tell me so we can leave. I’ve had enough of vampires for one lifetime…”

“No vampires, just mountains.” Ghost said, half smiling. He had had more than his share of vampire related activity as well.

“Mountains?” Steve perked up. He hadn’t been able to see anything while driving.

“Yes, there’s mountains around this city.” Ghost said, reaching back for his bag and climbing out of the T-bird.

“Do you want to visit said mountains? Find a local witch doctor? Become one with nature?” Steve began making a humming noise, pretending to meditate. Ghost picked Steve’s bag up and threw it at him, the dark haired man catching it with a laugh.

“Suck my aura!” Ghost replied, also laughing. He would be offended but he knew Steve believed in everything about Ghost that he sometimes made fun of – the teasing was his roundabout way of showing affection.

Steve paid for the room up front and they were quickly directed down the corridor. The room was clean, a decent size and with attached bathroom, two double beds, and all the hot drink options a weary traveller would require - some kind of black tea and instant coffee. Out of habit they threw their bags onto separate beds, though they would end up in the same one. He had found out a long time ago that he preferred it that way, but only since New Orleans had it become a regular thing.

Steve ran a hand through his hair, pushing a few long strands away from his face. Pulling his hand away he wiped it on his jeans. Time to make use of the shower.  Ghost had sat down on the edge of a bed, back upright, head tilted back and eyes closed. Steve figured that if his friend was communing with ghosts he’d rather not know about it.

He stepped into the bathroom, clean and fairly standard. Certainly nicer than what they had back home, though smaller with only a shower – no bathtub. A selection of small shampoos and body washes had been left for them – he sniffed them warily – no overpowering floral scent hit him. It would do. Steve threw his clothes into a pile on the floor and stepped into the shower, reaching to turn it on and pausing. He faced an unfamiliar dial. He tried turning it one way, then the other. No reaction. He couldn’t see a button around it or a lever. He turned it one way and waited – still no water. He tried the other way. Again no water. He tried pushing the dial in to see if that helped. Once again, no water.  Steve remembered why he hated showering away from home.

“Fuck!” He hit the shower, a dull ache spreading through the base of his hand. “Fuck!”

The bathroom door opened and Ghost – now in a tie-dye shirt and worn jeans without the khaki jacket – peered round the door. “Are you okay, Steve?”

“Fuckin’ shower won’t work!”

Ghost looked at the dial, then turned and looked behind him as though someone was speaking to him, then turned back and stepped into the room and into the shower beside Steve.

“You pull it then turn…” With that, Ghost pulled on the dial and sure enough, the damn thing slid out. Turning it clockwise, water began to gush out, soaking them both.

“Did the ghost of Frida Kahlo tell you that?” Steve said, casting a glare at the dial and then a look at the open door before looking back to Ghost.

Ghost gave him a look. “No. Someone else.”

“Well close the door so someone else doesn’t get to look at us naked.”

Ghost rolled his eyes. Steve was fairly certain he heard him murmur ‘as if he would want to’ under his breath. Still, he didn’t fancy the idea of a ghost lurking in the room and watching him shower – or his friend for that matter. Ghost stripped and flung his wet clothes onto the floor and stepped back into the shower.

The water was hot, Ghost’s skin turning pink almost immediately under the spray. Steve turned it down slightly, letting cooler water filter in then reached for the shampoo. Squeezing what was probably a larger amount than needed into his hand, he rubbed his hands together then brought them down unceremoniously on Ghost’s head, rubbing hard enough to make his friend’s head rock. Ghost started grinning, eyes squeezed shut to stop any of the lather from getting into them, hands automatically coming up to rest on Steve’s elbows.  After a minute or so, Steve slowed the movements down, massaging the shampoo into Ghost’s scalp and then running it down the length of his hair and back up. Washing his own hair was a chore but he enjoyed washing Ghost’s hair – and judging from the noises Ghost was making, he was enjoying it too. Small, involuntary half moans escaping as he breathed out through his nose, eyes still closed but muscles relaxed now.

Steve continued his massage, fingers working over the scalp and around to the base of his head and top of his neck. He watched as Ghost began to dip his head forward to allow Steve easier access. Steve could feel the heat rushing to his groin as those small moans kept escaping his friend. Glancing down, he noticed Ghost’s toes curling and the beginnings of an erection, the sight causing his body to respond in kind. Grabbing a handful of Ghost’s soapy hair, he pulled his head back and closed the space between them , leaning in for a kiss, feeling Ghost’s mouth open automatically, pale hands sliding from his elbows to his back and then tangling in his dark hair. The water beat down on them, rinsing the soap from Ghost’s hair, Steve’s hand still working the pale locks and his scalp, feeling the other man’s erection pressing against his abdomen.

He kept his left hand buried in Ghosts’ hair, still massaging his scalp and slid his free hand down, fingers trailing the gentle bumps of his spinal cord below the pale skin then around his hips. He then reached between them and gripped Ghost’s cock, squeezing it lightly before beginning to glide his hand up and down it. The small noises his friend made turning into throaty groans, the vibrations enough for Steve to feel in his lips, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure directly down to his own erection.

Seeming to – or actually – reading his mind, Ghost moved forward, Steve’s cock being pushed upwards between them, his knuckles grazing Ghost’s stomach and his own erection with each pump. Ghost began to move his hips, settling into a rhythm with Steve’s hand. Steve began twisting his hand, almost able to feel the other man’s pulse below his fingers, feeling his own heart beating harder as heat began to pool in his groin. The kiss broke as they gasped for breath, touching foreheads instead as they both felt climax approaching, Ghost’s hands tightening in Steve’s black hair.

Ghost’s eyes had opened now, pale blue gaze meeting the dark-eyes of the other man. Steve felt his heart jump slightly – this has been the biggest surprise from their first time and was now Steve’s favourite part – Ghost seemed to take his one foot from the world of the supernatural  where he always seemed to hover and plant it firmly in this world during sex. It made the dark-haired man feel as though he was the only thing that existed in this world for Ghost important enough to focus his full attention on – as though Steve was the only one making Ghost a creature fully of this world and no other. He had often thought that his presence was the only thing that kept Ghost in this world, but this actually seemed to bring him back down to Earth. The pink blush across his cheeks, enlarged pupils and swollen lips were the icing on the cake. Steve had never thought about Ghost in this way before now – had always viewed him as asexual in a way, it’s how he had been so comfortable with him but now he was not entirely sure how it never occurred to him before.

Steve leant in for another kiss, feeling pleasure building in his abdomen, muscles tightening as he pressed himself harder against the other man. Ghost moaned again, the pitch becoming higher as the thrusts became stronger when Steve felt cum hit his stomach, his own filling the space between them seconds later. Steve released the other man’s erection and slid his arm around his waist, then pulled away from the kiss.

“Do I know how to wash hair or what?” He asked with a grin.

Ghost laughed. “You may have wasted yourself on music, Steve Finn.”

“Hair dressing with a Happy Ending. I could have made so much money…”

“But then you would have to leave Missing Mile. Imagine that with some of the locals…”

Steve pulled a face. “Yeah, I’ll stick with music.”

“I’m glad,” Ghost smiled and reached for the shampoo. Squeezing a bit in his hand, he massaged it into Steve’s hair, cleaning the dark locks of grease and dirt and whatever else had blown into it on their road trip. The warm water rinsed the soap away, leaving Steve with clean hair for the first time in what was possibly weeks. Reaching for the body wash, the dark-haired man squeezed some on the other, lathering it across his chest and shoulders, then gesturing for him to turn around, washed over his back. Once he had finished, Ghost turned around and repeated the process on Steve.

Eventually, both men were cleaned and after several seconds of wrestling with the dial from Steve, Ghost reached over and turned the shower off. They both grabbed a towel and dried themselves off, drying their hair as best they could before abandoning the towels and heading back out. Steve was already halfway to the bed when he realised that there could be a ghost watching him strut about naked. Throwing his bag off the bed, he climbed under the covers and flopped back on the bed. Being clean and sleeping in a clean bed was a pleasant change of pace. Ghost climbed in with him seconds later, damp locks touching his shoulder as the pale-haired man’s head hit the pillow.

Steve rolled onto his side and swung his arm over Ghost. “Are we going to the mountains tomorrow?”

“As long as you have nothing else planned.” Ghost replied.

“I have you planned, that’s about it,” Steve mumbled.

Ghost smiled. Steve was so brash the rest of the time but at night, with Ghost, he often let his guard down a little. More so since New Orleans. He knew Steve thought of Ann every day, thought of her alive and dead, still thought back to the night that ended their relationship. Those thoughts were gaining less prominence in his mind with each passing day but they were still there. Ghost himself still felt the sensation of the knife sliding through bone and then brain; how it had stopped for half a second and then moved forward with almost no effort at all.

He shuddered. Steve must have mistook this for him being cold and moved closer, almost laying on top of Ghost.

“How are you cold in this heat? Did a ghost just walk through you or something?” Steve muttered again, dark eyes opening to look at Ghost.

“Wet hair, I think,” Ghost said quietly, turning his head slightly towards Steve.

Steve grunted in response, arm tightening around Ghost. The pale-haired man closed his eyes, stopping his thoughts before they began and letting sleep come back to his body. Things would have been much worse now if he had not used that knife afterall…

 

 

Steve Finn flinched automatically as he awoke, waiting for the familiar slicing pain to cut through his head. And Ghost probably didn’t even have any of Miz Caitlin’s potion with him…

He was part way through wondering if they could find the ingredients around here when he realised that his head was not actually causing him any agony. Wasn’t even a little sore. He opened his eyes and blinked around the room in confusion, frown lines deepening as he tried to work out what had happened. A look at the unopened beer cans on the desk explained it. Apparently he and Ghost had gone to bed not only without drinking to excess, but without drinking at all.

Steve frowned at the ceiling, not really sure how to process this piece of information, or what it meant, if indeed it meant anything at all. He felt a sudden desire to sit up and put the world to right by starting his day with a can but the more logical part of his mind kicked in, now that it wasn’t quashed by alcohol.

__‘When was the last time you woke up without a hangover? The last time you went to bed without a drink? Just enjoy it for once, you’ll probably be drunk by tonight anyway.’_ _

Steve decided that there was a reason he drank his logic away, and the urge to grab a can returned until a pale arm landed across his chest, face burying into his shoulder with a small groan. The dark-haired man froze, waiting to see if Ghost was waking up or just moving in his sleep. Steve wondered for a moment if something in that weird brain had picked up on his desire to move and get a drink and decided against it. He wouldn’t be surprised, even unconscious Ghost could pick up on things around him.

He gave up on the urge to begin drinking, instead turning his head slightly so that his face touched Ghost’s head, the scent of last night’s shampoo still lingering in the blond locks. Steve covered the other man’s arm with his own, running his fingers over the pale skin and faint blond hair that grew there, tracing the ridges of muscle and bone. Everyone – himself included – always thought of Steve as the stronger one and Ghost as the far weaker one, but recent events had shown them both that Ghost was stronger than he looked – it wasn’t easy to drive a knife through someone’s skull – especially not someone as strong as Zillah…

With a mental shake, Steve forced his mind onto other thoughts. They were here to get away from that time in New Orleans.

“Ghost…” he mumbled the other man’s name, deciding that this was the time to get up and distract himself by actually doing something. When he didn’t get a reply, he rolled his head away and then back against Ghost’s head in a gentle headbutt. “Ghoooost…”

“Whaaaaaaaat?” Ghost’s eyes didn’t open but he began moving slightly, muscles tensing against Steve as he stretched.

“I thought we were going into the mountains today?” Steve wasn’t particularly ready to move, but he’d committed to the idea of going out when he woke his friend up.

Ghost nodded, forehead hitting against Steve’s shoulder – gentle headbutt revenge. “This early?”

“Well in case you hadn’t noticed, we somehow slept without drinking or getting high last night, so I actually feel human right now.”

Ghost finally opened his eyes and looked at Steve, then over at the untouched beer cans and weed.

“Steve’s Magic Hair Wash,” Ghost said, grinning.

“Happy ending guaranteed!” Steve ruffled Ghost’s hair. “Well there’s nothing to say we can’t take the weed with us and get a shot or two of Tequila somewhere.”

Ghost made a face, he didn’t like tequila. “I’ll take some cans.”

“It’ll be like the hill in Roxboro – home from home. Probably without the power plant though.”

 

Twenty minutes later both men were dressed and as presentable as they could be and aiming towards the mountain range they could see on the outskirts of the city. The T-bird growled its way along busy roads; Steve driving as Ghost almost hung out the window, steadying his hat with one hand as he took in the sights. Neighbourhoods of brightly coloured houses with patterned walls lined the streets, overlooked by large trees that had been planted at regular intervals along the roadside. The occasional small stall sat on the side of the road, some offering food and tables under a brightly coloured canopies, people chatting amicably with each other as they ate and drank. Signs in Spanish offered various services to the locals, Ghost was able to make a few words out as they drove by, the smells of the spices reminding the two men that they had yet to eat breakfast.

Ahead, the mountains rose above the city; covered in patches of brown and green where open lend met forests. The man in the motel reception had thrust some leaflets at them on their way out which described walking trails in the mountains in Spanish and English. Ghost had folded them into his coat pocket for later – he had a sixth sense for mountains but a map was never a bad thing to have.

The road began to slope upwards as they began to approach the mountains, the jagged peaks emphasised by the blue sky.  Steve slowed down, wondering where he would have to park to get access. One row of houses seemed to stand between them and the base of the mountain but no roads led off to an area where he could park, or where he and Ghost could walk to. As they made their way down the street, what was clearly a bar was just opening ready for the lunch time patrons.

“Fancy a drink and some food before we head out? Can ask someone how to get to the bottom of the damn mountain without climbing through someone’s garden,” Steve said, already pulling over before Ghost had a chance to nod in agreement.

The bar – if you could call it that – was a small corner building with a blue sign wrapped around it with the white logos of various beer brands printed across it. On one side a canopy covered service hatches while the other side was open to the street with chairs and tables place inside. The smell of food drifted out; fries, spiced meats making the two men realise how hungry they actually were. Inside the walls were white and the furniture clean, a metal hatch towards the back showed a man in a white t-shirt and white baseball cap spun backwards moving from side to side over a grill, the sound of spitting oils filling the bar – seconds later overpowered by a radio station that was suddenly switched on.

“Buenas tardes!” An older man with grey streaked, dark brown hair slicked way from his face appeared behind the bar, stopping when he saw the two men. “Ah, hello!”

“Hey, are you open?” Steve asked.

“Yes, we are. Please, have a seat.” The older man gestured to a table and handed the two men a small menu. “My name is Oscar. We are still cooking for today so some foods may require a longer wait.”

“Well just a beer and fries for me, thanks,” Steve said, looking over at Ghost who appeared to be studying the menu in great detail.

“Can I have fries and an orange juice, please?” Ghost said, handing the menu back.

Oscar nodded and yelled something through to the chef before going to the bar.

“Copycat,” Steve said with a grin.

“If I had ordered anything else you’d be bitching at me for holding us up,” Ghost replied, thanking Oscar as he returned.

“What brings you gentlemen this far out?” Oscar said as he placed the drinks down in front of the two men.

“We’re trying to get to the mountains to walk one of these trails the brochures we have keep talking about. Do you know where to go to get to one?” Steve said, pausing to take a sip of his beer.

There was a brief pause - the sounds of the bar seemed to fade for a moment as everything fell still. It was gone as fast as it appeared, leaving the two Americans confused.

Oscar looked over the two men, over at the kitchen hatch and then back at the two men. Ghost felt the niggling presence of uneasiness creep up on this man. Steve mistook the silence as confusion and began to repeat himself but stopped as Ghost prodded him in the arm and shook his head. The older man’s brow had furrowed and he didn’t seem to be looking at the two men in front of him. Ghost could sense some internal conflict within the man, however no maliciousness came from him so Ghost was content to wait until he was ready to speak. With a small nod to himself as if he had just made a decision Oscar took a deep breath. 

“This may sound strange but…I think it is best if you find something to do within the city while you are here. There are problems in the mountains at the moment, they are not safe…” he trailed off, clearly uncomfortable. Ghost mentally reached out, trying to pick out any thoughts on what the man was talking about.

“Have there been animal attacks or something?” Steve asked, wanting clarification and more details before he changed their plan to somewhere green and isolated and roll a joint.

Ghost picked up images of dead goats, puncture wounds on their throats followed swiftly by the image of a single bloody shoe – small enough to belong to a child just lying in the field behind houses, overlooked by the mountain.

“Of a sort, we are not sure but animals and children have been attacked. We think it is a mountain lion or maybe coyote…” Ghost knew the man was lying. He suspected something else but felt too embarrassed to say.

“No es un león de montaña! Es el chupacabra! Es la bruja de Monterrey!” The chef had stuck his head through the hatch and yelled at Oscar. Neither Steve nor Ghost were particularly fluent in Spanish except for the occasional Word, but Ghost recognised one particular word – Bruja. His grandmother had not been a witch but lots of people assumed that she and Miz Caitlin were witches, and he had heard that word in several languages. The witch of Monterrey.

“There’s a witch?” Ghost asked, tugging at his hair, playing with the ends as he gazed at Oscar.

Oscar’s cheeks flushed slightly but he sighed. “There have been legends of witches for a long time in this area. People think they are the ones responsible for the deaths of the children.”

“We don’t think, we know! Even the police have seen them!” The chef was back again, gesturing at the ceiling with a spatula on the last word.

Steve would normally have scoffed, but between Miz Deliverance, Miz Caitlin and goddamn vampires, he was more than willing to believe that witches who ate children were not just a product of fairy tales. He instead sat in silence, waiting on any further information to be pried out by Ghost who’s attention had now been caught.

Oscar looked from the chef, to Steve, to Ghost’s interested face. He sighed.

“I don’t expect you to believe. Most people here do not, but I think it is still better if you stay away from the mountains. There are nice parks within the city, if you want green lands I can give you some names and directions,” Oscar offered again.

“Okay, okay. If you give us some places to go we’ll avoid the mountains,” Steve said as the food bell rang – their fries were ready. Oscar brought them over and placed them with plastic cutlery on the table before going back to the bar, taking out a notepad and writing information down, conferring with the chef on the best places to visit.

Ghost looked at Steve. He knew Steve had no intention of not going to the mountain – Ghost could see that while he believed the story to an extent, he was also convinced that as adult men they would not be harmed. Steve looked back, realised that Ghost knew and shrugged. They ate their fries in silence as the sound of the Tequila Song began blaring from the radio. The chef swore and the crackling of a radio being retuned silenced the music temporarily until another station appeared. 

Oscar returned and gave Steve the names and directions. Ghost felt bad as he was clearly relieved and trying to be as helpful as he could – he would have words with Steve once they got back in the car. The fries and drinks vanished quickly once the men began eating and soon they were paying and leaving.

“You’re sure you still want to go?” Ghost asked once they were back in the T-Bird. He knew the answer but was also trying to work out his own feelings on it. On the one hand witches as a whole were given a bad reputation, and were often blamed for others bad deeds, but on the other hand he had a bad feeling. He knew to listen to his feelings.

“Yeah. I wanna go sit somewhere quiet and smoke  – no way is a city park gonna be quiet on a day like this. Whatever is out there is attacking children and small animals. I’m sure it’ll leave two grown men alone – anyway, they might be witches but you’re you,” Steve replied, pulling out into the road and resuming his search for access to the bottom of the mountain. “They’re not the only magical fuckers out there, and really, are they going to be worse than vampires?”

“I hope not.” Ghost’s mind briefly flashed back to his dream of giant crows and their blank, red eyes.

 

They drove for another hour, occasionally takings turns off onto dirt tracks that seemed like they would lead to the mountain but took them onto farmland instead. Eventually, a large parking lot with signs in Spanish and English appeared with maps of the mountain. Steve crowed victoriously when it came into view, swinging the T-Bird into the empty lot.

“Well Ghost, let’s go get comfy somewhere and smoke the afternoon away!”

Ghost looked up at the mountain. The comforting feeling he had last night had been replaced by a vaguely unsettling sensation upon being this close. The sky was clear blue and the sun shone – he supposed it would be alright as long as they were back down by early evening.

Steve was already out of the car and raring to go – Ghost wasn’t sure when he had ever seen Steve this enthused about walking through nature. The pale-haired man steadied his hat on his head, playing with the strands of ribbon as he climbed out of the T-bird and checking his pockets for the maps. He walked round the car to Steve and they set off side by side through the gate and into the field beyond which led to forest.

Neither man was really dressed for walking on a mountain but Steve had a quiet determination to do this and Ghost followed along, listening to the wealth of nature around them. No strange sounds, only birds, small rodents running from their paths the occasional crunch as a branch broke as slightly larger animals made their way unseen through the undergrowth. Ghost couldn’t sense anything threatening or out of the ordinary around them.

Over an hour of walking brought them out of the forest, trees becoming much more sparse as the ground became harder. The sun beat down on them, seemingly even more blinding now that they were higher up. Steve turned and looked behind him, the city looking like it was so far below them even though they couldn’t be that high up. Ghost stood next to him and looked over the scenery as well.

“This seems like a good place to stop. We should make sure we’re off the mountain again by evening,” Ghost said.

Steve nodded. He was still convinced that whatever witches were hanging around were of no real threat to the two men but he usually listened to Ghost’s instincts and if they said get off the mountain by evening, that’s what they would do.

“It’s too bright to lay in the sun, we could go sit under that big tree at the edge of the forest. At least if anyone else comes up we’ll be partially hidden.” Steve pointed at a particularly big tree – while not tall the trunk was wide and the branches were long providing plenty of shade.

“The ground will be more comfortable there as well…” Ghost trotted off towards the spot, Steve following, already pulling out the bag of pot and reaching for the joint he had put in there.

Once both men were sat against the trunk, Steve lit the joint, inhaling deep before passing it to Ghost. He blew the smoke out slowly, letting himself relax. As much as he hated to admit it, having only had one beer since sometime last night was now starting to grate on his nerves – probably a huge sign that it was time to cut back. A few weeks ago the prospect would have seemed like a hilariously impossible idea – and if suggested by someone else would probably have resulted in a broken nose. Now, however, he had something better to replace it with.

Ghost’s head was leaning back against the trunk, joint still in his fingers and eyes closed – Steve wondered what he was seeing in his head at that moment. Reaching over, he put his hand on Ghost’s leg just above the knee, absentmindedly stroking it; the denim of his jeans was so worn in places that it was soft to the touch, the threads beginning to thin out, leaving pale skin almost visible in some areas. He looked up to see a small smile on his friend’s face, joint being passed back across without a word. Steve took it and inhaled again, letting his own head drop back against the trunk.

“You know what’s weird, Ghost?”

“If you say me I’ll smoke the rest of that joint by myself,” Ghost replied.

Steve chuckled. “I realised, when I think of you I still think of you as my friend, when really we should probably have a new word for it.”

“Friend works for me, it’s what we are.” Apparently Ghost was in a serene mood now.

“I think we’re a little more than friends,” Steve said.

“Well yes, but we know what we are and we are friends above all else. If you think of us that way it’s fine by me,” Ghost patted his hand. “As long as you don’t treat your other friends the same way.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, Terry and R.J. are not getting shower service.”

Ghost laughed. “Glad to hear it.”

They fell back into silence, the joint passing back and forth. Ghost let his mind open to the world around him, awareness of animals nearby and the vague ebb and flow of the city below.

“Niño.”

The voice was very quiet at first, the word spoken so very softly. Ghost opened his eyes, half expecting a spirit to pass by. Instead his eyes were drawn by movement on the path where a young boy who couldn’t have been more than six or seven years old in a red t-shirt and black shorts was walking up the slope, following the path he and Steve had taken before.

“Iven acá, niño.” The voice again, this time clearer and less soft.

Ghost looked around. He couldn’t see any adults who would be responsible for the child or who would be talking. He stood up slowly, trying not to wake Steve as he peered round the trunk. He froze, further up the hill stood a black figure. He couldn’t see clearly but they appeared to be wearing a shabby old black cloak.

He reached out, attempting to reach the other persons mind but pulled away quickly, the other mind burning his with hunger, hunger billowed by a predatory urge. Whatever that was, it wasn’t human. He looked over at the child, still walking towards the figure, the voice still sounding in his head.

“Hey!” He launched over Steve and ran towards the child, intent on grabbing him before he got any further. An unholy screech sounded, the soft voice replaced by white hot anger that poured over Ghost like lava.

“Respetar a tus mayores! Respetar a tus mayores!”  The figure jumped into the air and remained there, arms stretching out to reveal that what Ghost had thought was torn fabric were actually wings. The child seemed to come back to his senses as Ghost reached him, he took a look at the figure in front and screamed. Ghost grabbed him as Steve came running towards them.

“What the fuck is that noi- WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?” The dark-haired man came to a halt as he saw the figure in the sky.

“That’s what I’d like to know! It was luring this boy up the mountain!” Ghost wrapped an arm round the boy and tried to tell him he was safe. In a decisive moment the boy apparently seemed to decide that Ghost, although clearly a foreign stranger, was the safer bet and clung to him, hands gripping the green jacket Ghost still wore.

“Is that supposed to be a fucking witch?! Is that what they were talking about?!” They started as the figure began to come closer, Steve automatically looking round for something he could use to hit it – a large branch lay twenty feet away. He made a dart for it and then stopped as another figure began to come out of the trees. The white face resembled an old woman’s but the red eyes were another matter completely. Red and  almost perfectly round with a small, incredibly constricted pupil that focused on him. Claws came out of the feather appendages where hands should have been.

“Vidente!”  The first witch was yelling again, this time gesturing at Ghost and the boy. “Vidente!”

“Vidente!” the second witch looked beyond Steve and began to yell the same word back.

“Ghost, what the fuck does that mean?” Steve yelled, backing up again towards Ghost.

“How the fuck should I know?”

“So what do we do?”

“I don’t know! I can’t reach their minds – they’re not human!”

“Well in that case we’ll have to start hitting. I am not having a fucking holiday away from supernatural shit ruined by supernatural shit!” Steve was about to lunge for the one closest to him when a gunshot sounded out. He and Ghost dropped to the floor, pulling the small boy with them. The witches screeched again, this time pulling away from the group and retreating further up the mountain, quickly vanishing out of sight. More gunshots sounded followed by the yelling of several human voices - an oddly welcome sound after the screeched words of the witches.

Steve looked down the hill and saw a group of several men and woman climbing the mountain, the boy seemed to recognise a voice and fought his way out of their grasp and ran crying towards a woman who appeared to be his mother. Most of the group stopped to check the boy over as he joined them but another three men advanced towards Steve and Ghost, guns lowered.

“Are you guys okay?” The first one said, gun relaxed as he approached. His dark hair was cropped short but with enough length to be styled if desired, highlighting high cheekbones and large dark eyes with long eyelashes.

“We’re fine. What the fuck was THAT?” Steve was still at the point where an ability to be civil in the presence of other people was nigh impossible.

“The witches of Monterrey,” he said, guard up, clearly waiting to be mocked by the Americans in front of him but unwilling to lie.

“I am fucking shit of supernatural bullshit, Jesus tapdancing Christ…” Steve began muttering to himself as he stood up, running his hands through his hair as he began to look around them. Ghost decided that he would have to be the one to take over.

“Thank you for saving us. I’m Ghost, this is Steve.” He shook hands with the first man. “Sorry about my friend, we had some trouble a few weeks ago with…other things.”

“I’m Carlos. This is Jesus,” he gestured to an older man with longer hair tied back in a ponytail, currently lighting a cigarette, “and this is Daniel.” He gestured to the final man who was probably around the same age as Carlos but has forsaken the fashionable haircut in favour of a buzzcut. The other two men nodded.

Ghost nodded back, turning and looking back up the mountain. Everything around them had seemed to settle back into its normal, natural rhythm. The relief flowed from the woman and her son, the boy’s crying slowly subsiding as the family that had accompanied the woman and the men up the mountain gathered round.

__“Nos vemos pronto, Vidente…”_ _

Ghost heard the whisper in his mind, felt the hunger gnawing at the edge of his mind. He shuddered, reaching up and pulling his bangs over his face. Steve noticed, reaching over and putting a hand on Ghost’s shoulder and giving it a gentle shove, bringing him back to the rest of the people.

“They’re heading down the mountain now, let’s get the hell off this thing,” Steve said, using his hand to help turn Ghost around. Ghost nodded and followed, letting his hair blow away from his face again.

“Carlos, what does ‘Vidente’ mean? The witches kept saying it,” Ghost asked.

“Vidente? It means someone with magical powers…but not a witch…how to call it…” Carlos looked at the sky, a frown on his face as he searched for the correct word.

“’Seer’ is the English word,” Jesus offered as he finished his cigarette. He glanced at the two men, then took a long look at Ghost before turning his attention back to the trail.

Steve shot Jesus a look then looked over at Ghost. Those…things, whatever they were, had been more interested in Ghost than the boy. Was he the equivalent of crack to supernatural creatures because they sure as hell flocked to him. Fucking fantastic.

“When we get back to the motel we’ll hop in the T-bird and head to San Antonio or someshit instead. Somewhere away from these damn mountains…” Steve said. “We can go find a row of bars and drink the holiday away.”

“Probably the best idea if they have decided they like the look of your pale friend there…” Jesus gestured at Ghost.  “How did you get here? I can drive you to the airport if you need it. Consider it a thank you for protecting my nephew.”

“We drove, my car is parked in a lot for one of the trails up this mountain.”

“Aah, the thunderbird?” Jesus nodded. “We saw that on the way up - nice car. The farmland around that lot belongs to our family,” he gestured at the people around him.

Steve nodded. “We’ll swing by the motel to get our stuff and leave tonight.”

Ghost heard a distinct ‘fuck this supernatural shit’ in Steve’s mind as a sentence finisher. He could also feel pulses of worry radiating from the other man, thoughts of what could  have happened and could still happen building on themselves. Steve pushed the thoughts away but they came back swiftly later - their near miss in New Orleans left neither of them wanting to risk losing each other again.

“Do the witches eat animals and children then?” Ghost asked, his curiosity getting the better of him as he remembered the pictures of the goats from Oscar’s mind.

“No, the witches only eat children…they lure them from their homes and up the mountain where they attack. Animals are killed by other things.” Carlos replied.

Steve remembered the conversation with Oscar that morning. “Someone told us animals were being killed a lot as well. Are there mountain lions or something?”

“I’d tell you but I think you’ve had enough of supernatural things,” Jesus replied, remember Steve’s earlier spiel.

“Oh Jesus – not you – there’s more?”

“The one that causes puncture wounds?” Ghost asked, thinking about the goats.

“Not fucking vampires again…” Ghost poked Steve in the ribs.

“Where did you hear…”Jesus looked at Ghost and then seemed to decide that the Seer title was probably correct. “We call THAT one el chupacabra. Goat sucker, basically. Usually it is not too much of a problem but it is eating a lot at the moment and causing problems with livestock in the area, but it doesn’t attack humans.”

“Didn’t the chef mention that earlier?” Steve asked Ghost, the name ringing a bell in his mind. Ghost nodded in return. “I think I saw a special on that on TV once, didn’t they prove that all sightings were coyotes with mange or something?”

“The ones where people claimed to catch it yes, the one we know is much bigger. About the size of a small bear. My brother saw one in an evening, took a shot at it but it got away. It attacked the bull of the next farm over; a sickly coyote with mange couldn’t do that.” Jesus said.

Carlos and Daniel remained silent in this conversation. Ghost could feel the embarrassment coming from them – while they believed in this stuff and could discuss it amongst themselves, they felt slightly awkward discussing it in front of the two Americans. Jesus had decided that the two were not likely to ridicule them after what they had seen.

The walk down was faster than the walk up – less effort and a combined desire by everyone to get away from the mountain and back into the city.

At the parking lot, the mother came and thanked the two men. They said their goodbyes, Steve and Ghost thanking the family for helping them. They were about to climb into the T-Bird when Jesus offered them a card. “You should leave tonight, but any problems you can call me on this number.”

Ghost took the card – what he assumed was the family name topped the card in red writing, above a smaller black print in what seemed to be advertisements for fresh food from the farm. He put it into his pocket with the maps and piece of paper they had been given by Oscar earlier in the day. With a final farewell, Steve swung the T-bird out of the lot and onto the road, heading in approximately the same way they had come.

“I think we turn right somewhere up here…” Steve mumbled, peering at the road again. Ghost looked out, trying to find a familiar landmark from their previous journey.

As Steve thought he saw a familiar building, he pressed his foot into the brake pedal…only to feel nothing - the pedal slipped down with no resistance. Panicking he pushed the pedal flat against the floor and still no response.

“Steve, what’s wro-?” Ghost began.

“Shit!” He grabbed the handbrake and pulled up trying to stop the t-bird that way but again the car kept moving. “Hang on, Ghost!” He dropped the gears down, the truck jolting violently but still moving. As they approached a cross road, Steve pulled over towards the side of the road and ran the side of the T-bird against the metal railing there. The screech of the metal filled their ears, Ghost leaning against Steve away from the passenger door as the T-bird finally began to slow and came to a stop.

Both men sat frozen for several moments, gasping for breath.

“What happened to the brakes?” Ghost asked, breaking the silence.

“They just stopped working…Wait in here!” Steve hit the hazard lights button and then climbed out the T-bird and walked around the front of the truck. He knelt on all fours and peered underneath the car, the problem spotted in seconds.  He jumped to his feet and got back in the car. “Someone cut the fucking brakes! They’ve been shredded!”

Ghost’s eyes widened and then realisation. They wouldn’t be leaving Monterrey tonight…

He fished in his pocket for the card Jesus had given him earlier. “Maybe Jesus can help? He can probably find us a garage that can fix the T-bird, right?” Ghost didn’t mention the bad feeling in his gut.

Steve nodded and took the card. “We need a pay phone now.” He climbed out of the T-bird, grabbing the hammer from under his seat and tucking it into his waistband below his t-shirt. Ghost followed, clambering out through the driver door since the passenger one was now pressed against the metal barrier rail. “Come on then, use your powers to find us the nearest pay phone…”

Ghost rolled his eyes at Steve’s joke but climbed over the barrier and began walking the way the car had been heading. He hadn’t seen one on the way so far so there didn’t seem any point to going back the way they had come. Of course he wasn’t going to tell Steve this logic, just let him think it was magic again – it seemed to entertain him - and Ghost couldn’t begrudge him that right now. The dark-haired man followed in silence, sticking by Ghost’s side as though he was a hired bodyguard – if those witches came back he’d be ready. He rubbed the end of the hammer through his t-shirt, the cool metal against his stomach oddly comforting against his skin.

They walked for a short while, long enough for Steve to wonder if waiting back in the car for someone to pass would be a better idea but eventually a payphone came into view. Steve dialled the number on the card, lightly banging his fist on the case as he waited for an answer. A woman’s voice answered.

“Bueno?”

“Hi…uh…My name’s Steve, we were on the mountain earlier with Jesus?”

“One minute…” Steve heard the woman yelling Jesus’ name in the background.

“Hello? Steve?”

“Hi, um, we were ringing because my brakes have been cut and wondered if you knew a garage?”

“Shit. Where are you?”

“On that road, we turned right out of the parking lot and kept driving straight. Luckily there were no cars behind us.”

“Stay in your car, I’ll come get you. I have a cousin who works in a garage, I’ll have him collect it.”

“Thanks.”

“Be there soon.” Jesus hung up the phone.

“Well we’d better get back to the T-bird, the guy is gonna get it towed and pick us up.” They started walking. “When I find out who did this I am gonna beat the shit out of them I swear…”

Steve muttered to himself all the way back to the T-bird, Ghost umming and aahing in the right places as he did so. As the sky grew slightly darker, he looked up at the mountain looming over them, the familiar sensation he had felt last night was gone and now a low hum of danger seemed to flow from the slopes. Until the T-bird was fixed, Ghost decided that staying in their room and drinking would probably be the best idea.

They arrived at the car just as Jesus pulled up, followed by a towing truck. They looked under the T-bird, pointing at the brake lines and talking amongst themselves.

“They look like they’ve been chewed through…” Jesus said, looking at the two men with a facial expression that they all understood.

“You’re saying that those damn witches did this?” Steve asked, incredulous. He was willing to believe that they existed – he had seen them after all – but that they knew how to cut brake lines was taking it a bit far in his opinion.

“Well normally I wouldn’t suggest it, but they took quite an interest in Ghost here…” He glanced over at Ghost who swallowed.

“My cousin says he can have it fixed by tomorrow afternoon. Until then I’ll take you back to your motel and you should probably stay inside.”

Steve nodded. Ghost didn’t need to read his mind to know that he was picturing all the things he’d do to those witches if given a chance to get ahold of them. Nobody damaged the T-bird and lived to tell the tale pain-free.

They helped load the truck and then Jesus drove them back to the motel. The ride was subdued, the three men mulling over the afternoon. The drive back didn’t take very long, and soon Steve and Ghost were left at the motel where they swiftly made their way indoors.

“Well, we need takeout and beer if we’re gonna sit in all night!” Steve said, entering the reception to try and find the number of a takeaway.

The man on reception gave them some leaflets for a few local places and offered Steve use of the phone to make an order. The fact that they hadn’t eaten for several hours kicked in which resulted in a small feast of meat and vegetarian foods being delivered shortly after. The beer they had fetched came in handy, though Ghost wished he had bought a bottle or two of his wine along by the time he was through his second can.

“Why is it, wherever we go, we end up dragged into some supernatural shit?” Steve said, shoving the final mouthful of a taco into his mouth from one of the containers spread across the bed. “First it comes and finds us in Missing Mile of all the goddamn places in this country, then New Orleans…” He took a gulp of beer. Ghost didn’t mention that they had infact followed the supernatural shit to New Orleans.

“And now here when we’re supposed to be on a fucking vacation! So instead of being out and drinking in bars, we’re stuck in a motel room because of some goddamn witches!” Steve finished his beer off, rant coming to an end.

Ghost sat and let the anger flow through him. Their loss and near losses in New Orleans were still fresh in their minds, and Steve took damage to the T-Bird as a very personal offence. He glanced over Steve’s face, the other man’s brow furrowed deeply as he wrestled another can from the pack, a light sheen of sweat on his forehead had slicked a few dark curls along his hairline. Ghost reached a pale hand out, fingertips lightly touching the back of Steve’s wrist before slipping down, their fingers interlocking automatically. His other hand found Steve’s face, slowly pushing the stray curls away from his face and back into his hair.

Steve dropped the can he had picked up, choosing instead to pull the other man in for a kiss, the taste of beer and spices still lingering on his tongue as it parted Ghost’s lips. One hand wrapped around Ghost’s waist while the other cupped the back of his heck, fingers burying themselves in the almost white hair. Wrapping his arms around Steve’s neck, Ghost let himself fall backwards onto the bed, pulling Steve on top of him. This would distract him for a while - would distract them both for a while.

The kiss intensified, small gasps of breath escaping the two men, Ghost feeling Steve’s teeth graze his bottom lip as he pulled away. Their eyes met as Steve’s hands moved to either side of Ghost’s face, thumbs moving gently over the soft hair near his temples. Steve’s face was flushed, lips swollen and shiny from the kiss stood out against the darker backdrop of his stubble covered jaw. Ghost reached a hand up and began to run his fingers over the stubble. He never seemed to grow much in the way of hair around his face, something that most people found odd once they realised, so the feel of the stubble against his skin was a small novelty he enjoyed - and enjoyed often. Steve leant in for another kiss, Ghost’s eyes closing and head tilting back in anticipation when he heard a voice.

__“Vidente.”_ _

Ghost was unsure if he had heard the voice with his ears or in his mind, but he went rigid, eyes widening again. Steve stopped, noticing the change immediately.

“What is it?”

“...I just heard them. The witches.”

Steve was up in a flash, hammer in hand and looking round the room as though the witches would appear from below the beds.

“Vidente…” The word was dragged out and loud enough for Steve to hear it this time. The sound came from outside.

They had pulled the curtains shut the previous night and hadn’t bothered to open them again. Steve approached the window slowly, hammer at the ready, the reassuring weight in his hand allowing him to deal with the thought of what lay behind the curtain.

“Ghost, get behind the bed.” Steve put a hand on the curtain and waited for Ghost to get down behind the bed and out of sight. Couldn’t hurt to try and pretend that Ghost wasn’t in the room if they were looking.

He pulled the curtain aside with a dramatic tug, hammer raised and ready but all he could see was the empty parking lot, street lights throwing a dim, orange glow over the area. He looked up and around the sides of the window as best he could but there appeared to be no sign of the witches.

“Vidente…”

The voice again. They definitely knew Ghost was there. Steve wondered if they were above on the roof. He closed the curtains again, hearing the word repeating in the air over and over. They were never gonna be able to sleep at this rate…

“Stay here and out of sight, Ghost. I’m gonna go kick some witchy ass! Make it think twice about hanging round here all fucking night!” And with that Steve was out the door, hammer in hand before Ghost could stop him. He followed Steve as fast as he could, just catching the terrified look of the man on reception as Steve vanished out of the main doors, yelling angrily, hammer in the air. Ghost made to follow when all fell quiet.

“Steve?” Ghost ran to the door. Steve was nowhere to be found and he couldn’t hear the voices of the witches either. “Steve??” He shouted again, louder this time, to no avail. He ran back to their room and dug in his pockets, looking for the card given to him by Jesus. After some panicked fumbling in the large pockets, tossing the maps and some rocks he had picked up at some point aside, he was able to locate the card.

He ran back to reception, only saying the words ‘phone, please’ to the receptionist. He dialled the number on the card and waited. It wasn’t too late yet, so hopefully he wouldn’t be waking anyone up. His breath hitched and he forced himself to breathe slower, stomach churning as the phone rang.

“Bueno?” A man’s voice answered.

“The witches got Steve! They’ve taken him somewhere. He was only outside for a second and then he vanished!” Ghost spilled the story within seconds, hoping that it was Jesus who had answered the phone and that he had understood what had just been said.

“Wait, Ghost? The witches got Steve? They’ve never taken an adult before, definitely not a grown man…” Jesus sounded worried, no doubt because if a pattern of attacking adults was beginning, it meant no one would be safe.

“He vanished almost straight away, he isn’t nearby now and neither are the witches. Can you help?” Ghost clung to the phone in both hands, mind racing as he tried to make some sort of plan in his head. Damnit, why did Steve need to fight everything all the time…

“Hold on, I will try and arrange a search party for first light tomorrow. Sit tight for tonight and do not go outside, even if you hear them again, even if you think you hear Steve. Make sure the motel keeps the doors locked  and the same goes for you. I will come and get you at first light tomorrow. Okay?” Jesus was trying to sound reassuring, and Ghost knew they couldn’t head up the mountain at night for the safety of everyone else but a part of him still found it unfair. This was Steve they were talking about, afterall.

“I’m sure he’s fine, wherever he is,” he attempted to placate Ghost, “and it’s not safe to go up the mountain at night. We have to wait until dawn.” Jesus took the silence as disagreement. “So wait out tonight and we’ll go out first thing.”

“Okay.” Ghost nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

He hung up the phone and passed the message on about locking the doors which the receptionist was happy to do - clearly he knew of the witches as well. Ghost made his way back to their room, locking the door behind him and making sure the windows were locked and curtains closed.

No longer hungry and at a loss for what to do, he began clearing the food packages away, throwing empty and almost empty containers in the bin and packaging the left overs together. He sat on the now cleared bed and stared at the wall, hands coming up to begin pulling at his hair, mind turning over and over what had happened and where Steve would be. He was sure his friend was still alive, refused to believe anything other, and knew he would know if something had happened. And like Jesus said, they wanted him, not Steve…

He lay back on the bed, still tugging his hair, pulling Steve’s pillow close, the smell of the takeout and the shampoo they had used the night before embedded in the white fabric, only a slight hint of Steve’s own scent underlying it all.  He would go into the mountains tomorrow with Jesus and the others and they would find him somewhere…

With this thought, Ghost released the strands of his hair and wrapped his arm around the pillow, trying to force himself to sleep. He would need energy tomorrow, hopefully there would be no need to fight again. Steve still had the hammer after all, hopefully he would be able to protect himself for now.

“Vidente…”

Ghost buried his face into the pillow, refusing to acknowledge the voice. Apparently they were still waiting for him as well. The doors and windows were locked, he would just have to stay where he was. He was sure he could see shadows in front of the window, moving back and forth as if they knew exactly where he was.

He cast his mind back to Steve, hoping for his safety, not knowing where he was right now.

Eventually, despite hearing the witches talk, his mind started drifting and the sensation of the blade sliding into Zillah’s head came to him again. Ghost hoped it didn’t come to that again, but he was more than prepared to do it again if it meant Steve’s safety.

 

 

For a moment, Steve thought he had gone blind. His world had gone dark as he entered the parking lot, hammer in hand and spotted the witches on the roof. After that everything had gone blank and he figured he’d been knocked out somehow judging by the throbbing in his head. Now, rocks dug into his back, the burning soreness of scratches along his arms alerting him to minor injuries he couldn’t see. A damp, rotting smell hung in the air around him with no breeze and none of the warmth of the air of the city and mountains.

He moved his legs slightly and then his arms, checking for breaks or any other injuries. His limbs seemed to be okay and in one piece, all his injuries seemed to be minor except what may well have been a concussion. He slowly sat up, trying to pick up on the faintest bit of light around him. A scratching sound above him that sounded like something moving and feathers ruffling caused him to still again. A small rock fell from a ledge somewhere, the sound echoing around the chamber he was in - probably a cave, Steve decided.

He felt the ground around him, hands running over the rough surfaces of rocks and pebbles; if he had been dropped here, the hammer should be nearby. He might not be able to see but he could still hit things if they came near him. For several minutes, he felt around, shuffling slightly but trying to stay as quiet as possible, the rough surface of the cave floor cold and damp to the touch, small sharp rocks littering the surface. As his fingers came into contact with something distinctly not rock, he ran his fingers over it, feeling a tapered tip. The rough surface curved round and led his fingers down to something bumpy that seemed to trail from either side of whatever it was…

Feeling another curved offshoot of this line of bumps, Steve stopped, realising that his hand had just found another rib and his fingers had been trailing alone the spine of what he sincerely hoped was a deer or some other mountain animal.

He put the thought aside quickly, whipping his hand away, quashing the slight feeling of panic that bubbled in his throat and resumed his search for the hammer. Time stretched on, Steve feeling as though hours had passed, though he knew in his mind it could only have been minutes before he found something distinctly metal and in a familiar shape below his fingers. The steady weight of the hammer helped calm him again, even though it had been useless when he first confronted the witches.

The sound of the hammer being picked up, the handle moving grit and small pebbles as it was lifted at an angle caused a small stir above him. Steve froze and listened to what he could only compare to a quiet chainsaw being unsuccessfully and slowly revved; a throaty, irregular noise with a pitch that made his mind flashback to the noises made by lions and tigers on nature shows they had seen at school on end of term days.

“Vidente.”

The noise stopped and a word was spoken instead, soon joined by others, repeating the same noise and the word. Steve stayed as still as possible, hammer at the ready as he listened. The witches didn’t seem to be moving towards him but were talking instead. He listened, realising that they only seemed to say a couple of words, most of which were punctuated by the deep clucking chainsaw noise and higher pitched clicks.

This carried on for a while, Steve recognising two words - niño and vidente - that seemed to be repeated at random, but the rest just fell into a peculiar set of noises. As he listened to the strange noises, he thought back to the round, red eye of the witch who had appeared in front of him earlier… His head snapped up, refocusing on the noises. The sounds they made, the simple language, the feathers, the claws, round eyes and the ability to fly…

They were fucking birds. Some weird, mutated predatory bird of prey that was attacking humans. God fucking damnit, he’d been kidnapped by a pack of ugly fucking parrots. He’d fought vampires but was being kept hostage by fucking birds…

That still didn’t explain how they knew about Ghost. Or how they knew how to cut brake lines.

Steve shook his head. Fine, so they were supernaturally intelligent, man-eating fucking parrots. Man-eating supernatural parrots who apparently preferred to eat psychics for lunch.

He fell still again and listened, he could still hear shuffling above him, definitely higher up in the cave he was in but the chatter was beginning to die down. He weighed his options; he knew Ghost would come looking for him, but if he was still alive, he wondered if that was the plan of the birds or witches or whatever the fuck they were… what did they want with him anyway? Was he going to be a tastier meal or something? Maybe they shouldn’t have had that shower when they arrived, that might have kept them away…

Unsure how long he had been unconscious for, Steve had no idea if it was day or night outside, if it was still night; day might bring some light into the cave for him to escape by but he had no guarantee and had no idea how long it would be until sunrise, if it hadn’t happened already. He could try and work his way around the cave and see if he found a tunnel, but that could end up taking him even deeper into the mountain.

He decided to sit for a while, it had still been pretty early when he was taken so it was probably still night. And if the bird-witches began moving in or out of the cave he might be able to follow.  He gently moved the hammer around to see if he was close to a wall, having his back unprotected in this dark put him on edge. Luckily, the edge of his hammer lightly scraped a wall to his left, and as quietly as he could he moved over to it, leaning against the cold wall, glad to have something to prop him up, now if something happened he only had to defend the front. In an attempt to keep himself occupied, he sat picturing all the satisfying ways he would take each and every bird-witch down with his hammer, and possibly the t-bird once it was fixed.

 

 

Ghost barely slept that night, falling into the occasional bout of uneasy sleep that ended up full of dreams and visions. As soon as the sky began to light up, he climbed out of the bed and opened the curtains. An empty lot greeted him, the low sun slowly making its way up in the sky, casting shadows over the marked parking spaces. To pass the time, he put the kettle on and decided to try some of the tea - he didn’t have high hopes but it would be warm and he would need energy today. Who knew how long they would be looking for Steve.

As the tea cooled, he picked at the leftovers from the previous night.

Hugging the cup, he sipped at the tea, lost in thought, not tasting the now luke warm liquid and soon Jesus arrived, his pick-up truck swinging into the lot. Ghost went to the window and gave a wave, pulled his coat on and left. He nodded at Jesus’ greeting, clipping the seatbelt across, being thrown back slightly as Jesus swung out of the lot, accelerating along the highway and towards the mountains again.

“There’s a big group of people gathering today. We’re off to try and put an end to this - the witches are getting bolder now if they’re attacking grown men. Steve’s a skinny guy but he isn’t small…” Jesus spoke, allowing Ghost to sit quietly. “We’ve even got some local priests coming with us. Power of God and all that…”

Ghost stared out of the window, brows creased together as the low morning sun shone in his eyes, trying to keep his mind calm and focused. It would be easier to find Steve if he was able to focus on him and not what might have happened…

“We’re going to go back on the trail we met you on yesterday, since the witches were leading my nephew that way, wherever they hide is probably in that direction which at least narrows it down to one mountain. You’ll need a weapon as well, I’m sure we’ll have something you can have…” Jesus trailed off and spared a side glance at Ghost, the other man still silent.

“Do you think your abilities will help us find him?”

Ghost didn’t reply for several long moments, just turned from the passenger window to look ahead for several moments, blue eyes paler than normal due to the sunlight. “When we’re closer to him I will know. Or we’ll hear him cursing and yelling.”

Jesus snorted. “He seems like the guy you might end up hearing before you see him.”

“His mouth does get him into trouble sometimes…” A small smile appeared on Ghost’s face. He was sure Steve was still alive somewhere; he’d survived vampires, witches were nothing. Afterall, they seemed to prefer Ghost a lot more…

Soon after, the truck pulled into the small lot Steve had parked in the day before. A large group of men and women stood waiting; Ghost recognised Carlos and Daniel from the previous day. Ghost could feel the anger in the air - the people were not just here for Steve but for themselves as well. He could see several rifles slung over shoulders and smaller guns tucked into waistbands and weapon belts, and hunting knives seemed to be on the hips of everyone. Two priests accompanied the crowd and appeared to be giving advice to the people there about how to protect themselves. Today was going to be a day of bloodshed once the witches were found.

They climbed out of the truck, Jesus digging around in the back, pulling his own weapons out. First he handed a handgun to Ghost who shook his head; Jesus reached in again and instead pushed a large hunting knife into Ghost’s hands.

“You need something, if you can’t fire a gun at least keep this to protect yourself with.”

Ghost looked at the blade, the wide handle fitting into his hands too well. Again, the sensation of pushing through bone and into brain tissue caused his hands to tingle uncomfortably. He swallowed and put it into his pocket. Jesus wanted him to have a weapon and if worst came to worst, he would have to do the same thing again - would do anything to protect Steve.

They joined the group, rapid Spanish spoken between several of the members and then they began to walk. Jesus walked alongside Ghost, occasionally translating any relevant bits of conversation as they happened. They followed the trail he and Steve had taken the day before and passed the area where they had met the witches. The mountain breeze keeping the growing heat of the day at bay as they moved higher.

 

 

Steve started as he felt his eyes trying to close again. Exhaustion was trying to catch up and the lack of food and water was now starting to bother him. Blinking several times, he realised a slight murky light was now entering the cave. He could see the ground around him, the small cavern almost circular, with rocks and bones - he spied the ribcage he had felt last night and what he assumed was the skull nearby. Looking up, he could see small cracks in the ceiling that the light shone through - it was definitely day time. Looking to the side, he could see the dark outline of the witch-birds perched on rocky outcrops in the wall, sitting on what appeared to be nests. They were all quiet and still, probably sleeping and waiting for night.

__Shit. There are gonna be more of them. I’m probably food for their babies…_ _

He looked around again, a single, small tunnel led from the room and there didn’t appear to be an entrance above which must mean the witches came and left by that route. However, the light didn’t penetrate the darkness of the tunnel, which would mean he was effectively blind again.

“Vidente!”

The word rang out in the cave, followed by an echoed chorus from the other bird-witches, several of them began to shuffle and move. They began to move, slowly drifting down to the cave floor, paying no heed to Steve as they began to leave through the tunnel. More and more of then seemed to appear from spaces in the walls and they flooded through the tunnel and out of his vision, only their voices left, still echoing in the darkness.

__Ghost must be out there somewhere! They’ve sensed him!_ _

He looked up, there were still many witch-birds perched above, and he was sure some of them were watching him. He curled up slightly, trying to make it seem as though he had no intention of moving, staying as quiet as posible. Eventually the eyes began to turn from him and back to sleeping. Apparently more focused on the nests and whatever was in them than him for now.

He stood as quietly as he could, and began to creep his way towards the tunnel, stopping to look up at the witch-birds every now and then to make sure he wasn’t being watched. He picked his way among the rocks and bones, trying his best to avoid disturbing them and drawing any attention to himself. Once he got to the tunnel he put his left hand on the wall and bent over slightly, he would feel more grounded in the dark if he could feel a wall to one side. He stepped in towards the darkness and then heard a shuffling of feathers. A deep clucking followed by a blood curdling shriek echoed from the darkness.

“Respetar a tus mayores! Respetar a tus mayores!” Steve backed into the murky light of the cave again, as a witch-bird approached him, red eye glinting in the dim light. He could hear the other witch-birds waking up again, shrieking and yelling in response.

“Fuck this!” Steve turned to the witch-bird closest to him which was still repeating the same phrase. He ran at it, raising the hammer and swinging it at the witch-bird’s head. A satisfying crunch told him he had hit his target and the cave fell silent momentarily as the body slumped to the floor. Steve dived into the tunnel and began running as fast as he could, hand on the cave wall, fingers chafing and stinging pain as the rock cut away at them. The shrieking had reached a new height and he had no doubt they would be coming after him, and chances were he wouldn’t be allowed to live another night.

Breath heaved out of his lungs as he ran, the tunnel seeming to neverending even though he had probably been running for less than a minute. He could hear the flapping and shrieking behind him coming closer. Suddenly he realised he could see; bright sunlight lay ahead as he found the entrance to the cave. One part of his mind decided that this meant he was safe, however he remembered the witch-birds from the previous day - they were happy to attack two grown ass men in broad daylight so he still had to try and escape down the mountain somehow. There were also one hell of a lot more of them - but Ghost was in danger now and Steve was gonna be damned if his stupidity got Ghost injured or killed - he’d put his friend in enough danger already.

He felt claws touch his arm, beginning to close around the limb.

Of course, in the meantime he would take as many of these creatures down with him as he could. It was Hammer Time.

He swung the hammer again, landing on the wrist of the clawed hand that grabbed him. A quick spin on the spot allowed him leverage to land another head shot, as well as a clear view of the other witch-birds as they crowded towards him, shrieking again as another one fell to the ground.

Steve turned and ran again, keeping the hammer tightly in his grasp. He skidded to a stop as he came to the entrance to the cave. The ground dropped steeply ahead - steep enough to cause some serious damage if he had fallen over the edge but not steep enough that he couldn’t slide down it…

He sat down and pushed himself down, cuts and bruises be damned, it was better than being eaten alive! The rocks caught his tshirt, lifting the fabric up his back and allowing the scattered shrubs and rocks to cut and graze his skin. Steve grit his teeth and tried his best to stay upright as he slid down the mountain side.

He came to an abrupt stop as the ground levelled out again. The witches were now beginning to fly down after him, still shrieking at him. He pushed himself to his feet, prepared to run again into the wooded area ahead when a distinctly non-human shape appeared in the space between the trees. Steve thought bear for a moment, and felt instant anger at whatever it was in life that wanted him dead. First crazy witch-birds and now a fucking bear…

His anger died away as the creature came into view; while it was bear shaped, there was no fur to be seen and instead weird brown spines stuck out of its back, like a giant, almost naked porcupine. It focused on Steve for a moment, raising up on its hind legs, nose twitched as it sniffed, revealing three sharp fangs at the front of its mouth.

Fucking El Chupacabra. Goddamn goat vampire.

Steve decided at that moment that he may never leave Missing Mile again.

The creature’s attention turned to the witches as they descended on Steve, their attention too focused on him to realise what stood a few feet away. Steve began swinging his hammer, trying to fight off the multiple pairs of clawed hands grabbing at him. He felt his feet starting to leave the ground as the witch-birds tried to drag him back up the mountain but was dropped moments later as a roar sounded out and el chupacabra appeared, grabbing onto the witch-birds with its paws and mouth, crunching of bones sounding. It lurched around, grabbing as many as it could before they all flew away again. The witch-birds screamed, some tried to attack it as a group and others tried to fly away, many times only to be dragged back down again as the beast was able to grab onto their feet or wings.

Steve ducked out of the way as soon as the beast was facing the other way, pre-occupied with attaching the witch-birds. A few more shapes appearing in the tree line, appearing moments later - young chupacabras. So the beast was feeding it’s young - he remembered Jesus saying that farm animals were being attacked more than normal. He watched from the sideline for a moment, anger forgotten as the cubs approached the injured and dead witch-birds and bit onto them, sucking the blood from the bodies.

As what he assumed was the mother ran out of witch-birds to kill, Steve turned and ran. He didn’t fancy being a meal to that either, and a mother animal with her cubs was something to avoid. He made his way through the trees at a jog, slower than before when he realised he wasn’t being followed, allowing the downward incline of the ground to pull him along. He figured it was probably mid to late afternoon at this point. His stomach grumbled, feeling light headed as the adrenaline began to wear off and the reality of what was probably a good 18 hours without food or drink began to kick in.

 

Eventually the group came to a stop and judging from the few words Ghost could pick up and the gestures, they were debating which way to go of a few choices. Jesus confirmed this moments later. Ghost wandered away from the group as they spoke and stared down each path. They could either travel around this mountain left or right or continue to go higher, where the progress would slow drastically as the terrain became rougher and steeper.

He looked ahead again, eyes focusing on the summit of the mountain. Logic told him that the witches could fly and would probably want to be in the most difficult to reach place and his instincts agreed. They were ahead, which meant Steve was as well.

He turned and looked back at the group who were still debating the way to go. He locked eyes with Jesus, who saw him standing at the foot of the middle path and nodded. He spoke to Carlos who stood beside him and gestured at Ghost. He spoke to the group briefly, gesturing at Ghost again, the pale-haired man ignoring the stares of the group as they turned to look at him. A few comments were made that Ghost was sure were disbelief but they were shot down. He was sure he heard the word ‘vidente’ mentioned as they spoke.

He heard the word again and froze, this time it came from ahead instead of the group behind him. He reached into his pocket, gripping the handle of the knife Jesus had given him. He heard a shout from behind him. A movement in the corner of his eye showed a black shape darting at him, colliding with him moments later and knocking him to the ground.

The face of the witch was above him, claws trying to get a grip on his arms. He tried to push it away, with one hand while he dragged the knife from his pocket. He could see men running from the side, then stopping. A shriek told him more had arrived. Several shots fired and the group spread out in an attempt to take the witches down, shouts and both human and inhuman screaming began to fill the air. Ghost felt claws wrap round his arm, the witch beginning to pull him with surprising strength, trying to drag him further from the group.

Biting onto the cover of the knife, he pulled the blade free and swung it at the witch’s neck. Blood spurted from the wound a moment later, staining Ghost’s coat and speckling his face. A screech began and was silenced seconds later as the body of the witch collapsed. He pushed the corpse away and shuffled away from it before turning to check on everyone else.

The attack had been short lived and no one had attained any serious injuries thanks to the heavy presence of weaponry. Carlos trotted over and held out a hand, helping Ghost to his feet.

He nodded at the witch. “Good job. You okay?”

Ghost nodded, realising the cover for the knife was still in his mouth. He took it out and watched as Carlos began to poke at the body.

“They look a lot like birds, don’t they?” he pulled one of the wings out to demonstrate his point. He frowned and kept studying it. “Is it possible for birds to be like this? What kind of evolutionary mess up would produce shit like this though…”

Ghost shrugged. The finer points of evolution and where that might link in with the supernatural were not something he had ever thought long and hard about. Things just were and found their place in the food chain.

Jesus shouted something to the group again. Everyone began to round up and move.

“Come on, let’s crack on. There’s more of them than we realised, but hopefully it means there’s less of them where Steve is.” Carlos headed back towards the group with Ghost following after. He leant down and wiped the blade on the grass before resheathing it. Using the cleaner of his sleeves, he wiped his face down where he had felt the blood hit.

 

 

As he reached the edge of the trees Steve came to a stop. Ahead of him he could see a group of people, with Ghost at the front. HIs eyes immediately caught sight of the blood on his friend’s coat.

They locked eyes for a moment, Ghost’s eyes widening, some cheers and shouts erupting from the group as the pale-haired man ran forward towards him. Steve pushed away from the tree he stood next to and clumsily ran toward his friend, collapsing as they wrapped their arms around each other, dragging Ghost down to the ground with him. He buried his face in the other man’s shoulder and took a deep breath, finally feeling safe again, fairly sure he had never been more relieved to see his friend in his entire life.

They lay in silence for a moment, catching their breath and reassuring themselves that they were together again.

Jesus brought them back to the current time.

“Sorry to interrupt, we’re glad you’re safe Steve but we need to know where the witches are. What happened?”

Ghost lifted himself away from Steve and helped him sit up. Steve’s head swam for a moment as the exhaustion, hunger and his injuries all began to become very apparent. Jesus noticed his dazed expression and offered him his water bottle and an energy bar.

“They’re not witches, they’re fucking predatory birds,” Steve began, pausing to take a long drink from the water bottle. In that moment he was sure this lukewarm water was better than any beer he had ever tasted. He would later deny that he had ever thought that. He then ripped the energy bar open and began to inhale it, finishing it in mere seconds.

“Birds?” Jesus sounded incredulous. The rest of the group had approached as well, listening and translating for the people who couldn’t understand. Carlos nodded along, glad someone else had thought the same thing.

“Yeah. I thought about it when me and Ghost saw them up close, then where they took me they had __nests,__  and they sounded just like big birds. When they spoke, they spoke like birds, just certain phrases over and over again… I think the reason they’re being so active is because they have eggs that’re gonna hatch at some point. If you wanna study one, there’s a whole bunch of corpses further up the mountain…”

Jesus blinked at all this information. “Corpses? Did you kill a group of them? We just killed some further down the slope, they seemed to be attracted by Ghost here…”

“No, I was trying to escape them when el chupacabra appeared and began attacking them. As it turns out, that also has babies to feed and it apparently likes the witches. Judging by how many it killed, I think your goats and chickens will be safe for a while. Speaking of, Ghost where did this blood come from??” Steve began gesturing to the dark stain on Ghost’s coat.

“One of them attacked me, luckily Jesus gave me a knife.” Ghost didn’t sound as though he felt lucky about this weapon. Steve knew Zillah was creeping back into his head again.

Jesus and others translated this information for the group and began to talk about the next course of action.

“Can you remember where the nest was, Steve?” Carlos asked as Jesus continued to discuss what to do.

“Roughly yeah, I think pretty much straight up the way I came, the trees end and there’s real steep inclination ahead. You should find the corpses there, and if you go straight up that slope, there’s a cave and if you follow it in, there’s a small cavern and the nests are up the walls there. I don’t think there’s that many witches left after el chupacabra got them.”

Jesus came back. “Based on what you told us, some of the group are gonna help you guys back down the mountain. The rest of us are gonna try and exterminate the nest and finish this once and for all. Thank you, Steve. I’m afraid your car won’t be ready till tomorrow now though - my cousin is here with us. Father Reyes here will drive you back to the motel.”

Steve nodded and handed the water bottle back. Ghost helped him stand and supported him as he adjusted to standing up. The dark-haired man winced as the various cuts and bruises on his body began to throb.

“We’ll make sure to stay inside tonight, won’t we, Steve?” Ghost said, watching the other man’s face as he blinked several times until his vision reappeared.

“Yeah, I’m getting a take out, drinking beer and going to bed. So are you, they still kept muttering about you when I was there and then a bunch of them ran out ahead of me to come looking for you - they knew you were here.” Steve patted Ghost on the shoulder, leaving his arm slung over the thin shoulders of the other man.

The priests and about half of the party set off down the mountain, Steve and Ghost silently following behind, glad to be next to each other again.

An awkward ride in Father Reyes’ battered old ford, creaking along the road at a pace that set Steve’s teeth on edge. Ghost rode faster than this on his goddamn bike after a bottle of wine. The pair of them sat next to each other,  fingers entwined in the small space where there would normally be a seat for a third person. Steve was sure they only made cars this small in Japan, or maybe Europe. Despite this, he felt his eyes slip closed on more than one occasion, head resting against the window before a small jolt from a speed bump or pot hole woke him up again.

Eventually they reached the motel. They said their thanks to Father Reyes and headed inside the motel. Once in the room, Steve grabbed the nearest take out leaflet, a can of beer and started making an order of the most filling food he could find - lots of meat and rice. A second can of beer was opened as soon as the order was complete. Ghost took the leaflet to reception and made another order. A different receptionist sat there today; the pale-haired man wondered if she had heard about the previous night. The look on her face as she glanced at him told him she had.

 

He returned to the room once the order was made. Steve was sprawled out on the bed, head propped up with a pillow, third can of beer in his hand.

“Steve, are you going to shower before the food gets here?” Ghost said, sitting on the bed next to him.

Steve’s eyes cracked open. “Since when did you care about daily showering?”

“Usually I don’t, but, and I mean this in the nicest possible way, you smell kinda like chicken shit.” A small smile appeared on his lips as he said it.

Steve frowned and turned his head, sniffing at his tshirt. “Fuck, you’re right. Fine. But you’re getting another shower as well then, walking around in that damn coat all day ain’t making you smell like a bed of roses either.”

Ghost laughed as he was dragged into the shower, the two men quickly stripping and climbing into the shower. Ghost fiddled with the control again, remembering the previous day. Ghost forced Steve to turn around and began to gently wash the cuts and scrapes on Steve’s back, pale hands slowly massaging the tension away from the muscles, lingering over the deeper cuts as though he could absorb some of the pain. He made a mental note to visit Miz Caitlin on the way back; he knew she would be able to make a balm that would heal these cuts right up. For now the water would help clean them.

Soon they were both clean and dressed and the food arrived shortly after. The two men lay on their sides on the bed, food spread between them, cans of beer precariously perched against the pillows.

“When we get back to Missing Mile, we’re staying there for a long time. At least the supernatural bullshit there just passes on through,” Steve declared, reaching haphazardly for different portions of meat, barely taking a moment to breathe.

Ghost nodded. “You say that, but supernatural bullshit helped save you as well.”

“Yeah, though I’m sure it would have started on me eventually though. But cheers, el chupacabra! I hope you and your kids don’t get shot. I hope those witches keep you fed for months!” He raised his can into the air in a mock toast and proceeded to down it. “I would have beaten more of those witches with my hammer first though, fuckers weren’t taking me back that easily!”

Ghost sipped his drink, nodding to show agreement with Steve. He was still overcome with relief that the other man had not only returned to him but did so with only minor injuries and an empty stomach. He reached forward, resting his fingertips on Steve’s arm for a moment, confirming that he was still there, still full of life and never ending irritation at the circumstances that surrounded them. The dark-haired man went quiet, watching the fingertips trace the outline of his muscles for several moments.

“I missed you too, man,” Steve said, quiet enough that Ghost almost didn’t hear him, a smile finally gracing his face. Another reason he would have hammered each and every one of those witches - who was gonna look after Ghost if he vanished. And more importantly, who would Ghost have to look out for, would he just leave this world if Steve was no longer here? The world would be a shitter place for it, of that he was certain.

They finished eating in companionable silence, then cleared the food away. A cursory tooth brushing later and both men were in bed, Steve lying on his back with an arm around Ghost who lay snuggled against his side, their hands held together on Steve’s stomach. Sleep overtook them fast; exhaustion, the warmth of the room, full stomachs and alcohol combining into a fast and deep sleep.

 

Ghost was the first one to wake up, the bright light that lit the room up through the closed blinds telling him it was probably close to midday. The T-bird would hopefully be returned in a few hours and then they could head back to Missing Mile. The idea of driving through the night didn’t appeal to him, and neither did sleeping in the T-bird, but neither of them wanted to entertain the idea of staying in this place another night. Even without the threat of the witches hanging over them, they’d had too much happen in too short a space of time.

He looked up at Steve, the stubble of two days ago had darkened considerably around his jaw and upper lip. Hair stuck up at multiple angles where he had fallen asleep while it was still wet;  the deep even breaths of sleep continued, uninterrupted by the bright light. Ghost reached a hand up and grazed his fingers over the stubble and then placed his hand over Steve’s chest, feeling his heart beat below it. Still tired, he closed his eyes, content to drift back to sleep until Steve woke up.

He wasn’t sure how long they lay like that, Ghost went through phases of wakefulness before being lulled back into a light sleep by the warmth and comfort of the bed and Steve.

Eventually, Steve took a deep breath, muscles tensing as he began to stretch, a groan escaping his lips as bones cracked and popped. As he relaxed, he blinked blearily several times before focusing on Ghost.

“Mornin’,” he mumbled before yawning.

“More like afternoon,” Ghost replied.

“Whatever.” Steve blinked several more times. “The T-bird should be sorted soon. Then we can get the fuck out of here.”

“I’m looking forward to wine again.”

“You and that damn wino wine.”

“Tastes better than your beer.”

“That’s a dirty lie and you know it.” Steve poked Ghost in the stomach to emphasise his point.

“I don’t lie, Steve Finn,” Ghost poked him back.

“Yeah, you’re right. Miz Deliverance wouldn’t have had time for that.”

“No she wouldn’t. She’d see right through me.”

“She was a good woman as well. Why do you guys put up with me, honestly?”

“Well, I love you for a start. I guess she put up with you because of that as well,” Ghost replied with a grin. He leant in and pressed a chaste kiss to the other man’s lips.

As he began to pull away, Steve tightened the arm he had around Ghost’s shoulders and pulled him back into a deeper kiss. Lips parted and breathing hitched, Steve pulled Ghost on top of him, letting the pale haired man set the pace. He felt Ghost straddle his hips, felt the brush of his cock against his own, the slight touch doing more to wake him up than anything else had.

He wrapped both his arms around Ghost’s neck for a moment, tangling his fingers in the other man’s hair before sliding one down his back, tracing the vertebrae of his spine before grasping his ass and pulling Ghost’s body tighter against his, feeling heat beginning to pool in his groin.

Just as a small moan escaped Ghost’s lips, the familiar horn of the T-bird sounded outside.

“For fuck’s sake, this place is just unlucky!” Steve said, locking eyes with Ghost who started laughing. “It’s not funny! That’s twice now!”

“We’ll just have to wait until we’re in the T-Bird, or home.” Ghost said, climbing off Steve and retrieving his clothes, throwing Steve his pants and t-shirt.

Steve mumbled darkly to himself, quickly dressing and going to the window to wave at Jesus who was currently sat in the front of the T-bird, a second truck parked behind with Carlos at the wheel. They both went outside to meet the two men who were stood in the lot looking tired but pleased.

“How did it go yesterday?” Steve asked, shaking hands with Jesus and Carlos as he and Ghost came to a stop.

“We found the nest, there were a few there but you were right about el chupacabra; there were so many dead ones lying around. We carried a few back down the mountain and some researchers are coming to pick them up and study them.  We neglected to tell them we killed the remaining ones though - doubt they’ll like that.”

“Did you see el chupacabra?” Ghost asked.

“No, by the time we got there it had gone. Hopefully the feast it had then will keep it away from the livestock for a while,” Carlos said.

Ghost suddenly remembered the knife. “Sorry, I still have your knife, Jesus…” he vanished back into the motel and returned moments later with the hunting knife.

“I’d forgotten about that, thanks.” Jesus tossed it into his truck.

“How much do I owe for the brakes?” Steve asked, digging his wallet out.

Carlos waved his hand and shook his head. “No charge for you, consider it thanks for leading us to the witches. That information has made this a much safer place for our children - and us - as well. We didn’t realise there were so many of them.”

“Thanks,” Steve put his wallet back in his pocket. “I’d say we’re glad to have helped but really I could have done without being taken hostage by supernatural parrots.”

Ghost snorted while the other two men laughed.

“Come back another time, guys. It’s a nice city and there’s plenty to do. Without the witches there isn’t anything else that’s gonna bother you in the city limits. Well, nothing non-human anyway.”

“We’ll make sure we do,” Steve said, mentally adding that he would not be returning to this city ever again and Ghost sure as hell would not be. Infact he intended on finding out any local witch myths before he and Ghost went anywhere again.

“We’ll let you get going. Thanks again and call when you’re next in town,” Jesus said, shaking hands with Steve once mroe before he and Carlos returned to his truck and left.

Steve and Ghost returned to their room and began throwing their things into their bags. Soon the room was bare again except for the pile of rubbish in and around the waste basket.

“Right, let’s get a coffee and some food and then get back home before something else happens.”

Ghost nodded and soon the two men were on the highway and heading back to America, back to their day to day life and the level of supernatural happenings that Steve was comfortable with.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Please leave feedback


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